Sue Bird’s Game-Changing New Chapter: What She’s Doing That No One Saw Coming
Ever wonder what happens when one of the greatest point guards in basketball history swaps the hardwood for the analyst desk—and then some? Meet Sue Bird, a living legend whose presence lingers everywhere she goes, from a statue at Seattle’s Climate Pledge Arena to the buzz in New York City streets. But here’s the twist: Sue’s post-retirement hustle isn’t just another career pivot; it’s a full-court press into new arenas—broadcasting, podcasting, investing, and shaping the future of women’s basketball itself. How does someone who’s spent decades orchestrating plays on the court master the art of life’s unpredictable playbook? Stick around, because Sue Bird’s story is packed with unexpected assists, fierce resilience, and the kind of leadership that refuses to sit on the sidelines. Ready to dive in?
Sue Bird receives a different kind of greeting everywhere she goes. In Seattle, where the WNBA great has lived since she was drafted by the Storm in 2002, it’s like saying hello to a neighbor: “ ’Sup, Sue?” A permanent statue of the four-time champion welcomes fans to Climate Pledge Arena, and many of the Storm staff have Sue Bird memorabilia in their offices. She’s always there, even when she’s not.
In New York City, where she also lives part-time, some days she goes unnoticed and others she’s stopped four times on the way to dinner. When I meet Sue for lunch in April in the West Village neighborhood, a kind fan introduces himself on his way out. “I’m Travis. Congrats on all the success post-career,” he says. “I have a lot of respect for what you’re building with the podcast and Togethxr.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that,” Sue replies warmly, before switching to her signature deadpan. “It’s good for the interview, Travis. Thanks.”
Earlier that afternoon, I’d said something similar to Sue without much thought: “Congrats on the new job!” She looked at me, puzzled.
She had just signed on as a WNBA analyst for NBC Sports the week prior—that’s what I meant. But that’s really only scratching the surface of what Sue Bird has been up to lately.
“You’re definitely doing something right when people come up to you and say, ‘Congrats,’ and you’re not sure what they’re congratulating you for,” she says.
Four years after retiring as one of the greatest point guards to ever play the game of basketball, Sue is finding her footing around the perimeter once again. The Naismith Hall of Famer will always be remembered for her two NCAA titles with UConn, four WNBA championships with the Seattle Storm, and a record-setting five Olympic gold medals. But she’s also on your TV discussing game highlights and in your headphones interviewing a new crop of stars on her podcast Bird’s Eye View. She’s investing her hard-earned money and boundless energy in organizations that strive to elevate the women’s game, like Togethxr and Deep Blue Sports + Entertainment. As managing director for the U.S. women’s national team, she will decide who represents her country at the 2028 Olympic Games in Los Angeles.
Sue is far enough from her playing career to reflect on it from a place of growth and clarity, close enough to it that the lines between player and person are still blurred. And as the 45-year-old embarks on a new professional chapter and sorts through a more personal evolution at the same time, she’s finding deeper meaning in a life that no longer has a playbook.
Sue identifies as a basketball player first. As a point guard, she controlled the floor, making the plays that made everyone around her better. She could see what was coming before anyone else did and adjust in real time. She also functions as the point guard for her own life. The instinct is still there; it’s just applied somewhere new.
As a teammate, Sue long referred to herself as the Robin to others’ Batman, a role she embraced. Her coaches often needed to remind her that she could also shoot the ball herself, her older sister, Jen Bird, tells me over the phone. “Sue is the master of the assist,” Jen says. “Her whole purpose and her whole way that she operates is to think of others and to help them achieve.”
It’s also why her game gelled under tough, honest leaders like Geno Auriemma, her coach at UConn, and alongside players like Diana Taurasi, who is known for her vocal energy on the court.
“Sue’s literally my sister,” Diana told me in Phoenix at this year’s women’s Final Four. The duo grew up together—from their college days at UConn, to playing overseas in Russia, to five Olympic Games. No matter what stage of their careers they were in, they’d meet early before games and talk about life and basketball over Americanos. In retirement, they hang out whenever they’re in the same city. “We were really responsible last night and went to sleep at a reasonable time,” Diana says proudly. “We are growing up. We are rubbing off on each other.”
By the time Sue retired in 2022, she knew it was time—“If you don’t know, it means you’re not ready,” she says—and she had already made moves toward a post-basketball career. She started a series of Instagram Live conversations with then-partner Megan Rapinoe in the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic that would eventually become their podcast and production company, A Touch More, and answered a call from soccer legend Alex Morgan to cofound the women’s sports media and commerce company Togethxr in 2021.
Much of her transition from a 21-year WNBA career into the real world felt seamless—at least, she didn’t feel she needed to totally reinvent herself. “How I approached my life, how I approached business ventures, was really similar to how I played the game,” she says. Her skills as a point guard—vision, consistency, knowing when to make a pass—didn’t just impact the way she conducted herself in new spaces; she embodied them. “It’s not about influence; it’s like it’s who I was. I wasn’t playing a part. I was the part.”
She entered rooms promising that if investors got on board with women’s basketball now, they’d look brilliant later. “Along the way, we started getting pieces of evidence, whether it was sold-out crowds or media deals. And now, in the future, when we walk in rooms and you’re ‘selling it,’ you have the actual proof,” she says.
Togethxr cofounder Jessica Robertson tells me that the way Sue shows up in these moments sets the tone for their business: She’s prepared but spontaneous, locked-in and relaxed, nurturing ideas rather than forcing them. “She has a natural ability to see how all the pieces fit, and she brings that same sense of orchestration to the business,” says Robertson, who has known Sue for more than a decade. “When she speaks, it cuts through the noise. She can read the room and see where the gaps are, then step in to reframe everything in about two sentences.”
At the women’s sports firm Deep Blue Sports + Entertainment, Sue serves as a partner and chief strategy officer, but founder and CEO Laura Correnti likes to think of her as “chief point guard officer.” “She approaches business challenges with the same strategic peripheral vision she used to command the game,” Correnti says. They recently met with a Fortune 100 CMO about building a new idea, and in one conversation, Sue addressed the challenges, considered options, and elevated the concept—a no-look pass, if you will. “Sue’s instincts regarding what will drive fan engagement and impactful business outcomes are always spot-on,” Correnti says, “as is her consideration for what will best represent female athletes.”
Sue shines most authentically in these moments that most people don’t see. Robertson calls her a “connector” and a “true producer”; Correnti says she’s a “world-class thinker and builder.”
“I feel really proud about my Robin status,” Sue says. “I’m definitely just someone behind the scenes. And I think it’s a lesson that you don’t have to be in the front all the time to have impact.”
When Sue served on the Women’s National Basketball Players Association executive committee in 2020, she was in part responsible for negotiating what was, at the time, a landmark collective bargaining agreement (CBA) for the league.
Current WNBPA president Nneka Ogwumike, a forward for the Los Angeles Sparks, tells me that she looks back on that time with Sue fondly. “We headed into what was a very unknown season,” she says of their COVID-19 bubble. “We laugh a lot about the things that we had to talk about, the things that we had to create and come out of that season not just in one piece, but also in one piece together.”
In 2024, Sue joined the Storm ownership group, a natural progression of her legacy within the only WNBA organization she’d ever played for. For much of her career, she was a constant in a league still trying to define itself. “So much of who we are is Sue Bird,” Storm president and CEO Alisha Valavanis tells me via phone. When Valavanis joined the franchise in 2014, Sue was a two-time champion and the Storm were heading into a rebuild. Valavanis can still hear the buzzer sound when the Storm won it all in 2018 and is reminded of how special Sue’s leadership and loyalty were in getting them there. “It’s very much a part of our culture—who she was to this team, who she is to this community, who she is to this franchise,” Valavanis says.
Dominique Malonga, a 20-year-old French center whom many consider to be the future of the Storm, puts it simply: “Her aura is everywhere here,” she says. “The winning spirit that she had and the mark she left here is just amazing.”
Juggling new positions of power at the Storm and USA Basketball with her core identity was a challenge for Sue, especially as the league entered a new round of CBA negotiations the following year. “I will never not be a player,” she says. “I know I have different titles now, and I know that can be a dance that I have to do—but also probably a dance that other people feel like they have to do around me, which is just kind of my new life. I’m getting used to it. That’s not easy.”
Sue says she was not heavily involved in these CBA negotiations until she sat in on two meetings about a month before a historic deal was agreed on in March. “What role I ended up playing was actually kind of like a translator to the ownership side,” she says. “I was like, ‘In order to connect to a player, I think it’d be better to say certain things this way.’ ” It was uncomfortable at times and put her in a difficult position to comment on the situation on A Touch More. “I just do my best,” she says. “I definitely learn. I don’t always get it right.” (In January, Sue called the league’s proposals “a win” despite current players’ frustrations. She tells me she only wanted to course-correct any rumors that the deal might repel brands and fans, “but looking back, I don’t think I was the person to do that in that moment.”)
Sue has always felt a certain level of ownership of the Storm, even when she was a player. She gives input when asked, but she’s quick to shoot down the idea that she’s making front-office decisions or that she was against the players getting record-high salaries and revenue share in the new CBA. Sue used to joke that when the first billion-dollar contract is signed in the WNBA, she wants to be a “disgruntled old player” looking on. She leans forward in earnest as she explains why. “It means that everything, everybody—from fucking Sheryl Swoopes, Rebecca Lobo, Lisa Leslie, to Azzi Fudd, who just got drafted—it means it worked,” she says. “It’s always what I wanted. I’ve literally dedicated my life to this. I love it.”
She insists that two years as an owner does not tip the scale from her 21 years as a player. “I’m pulling some strings—not always the ones they think,” she says matter-of-factly. “How about that?”
When Sue retired from the WNBA, she was 41 years old and had spent nearly half her life learning the true cost of longevity. Over the course of her career, she had six knee surgeries and both of her hips repaired. She hired her own trainer and performance coach, a rarity in the WNBA at the time, in pursuit of a “0.01 percent edge” on her elite competition.
What came with that drive to perform was an identity tied to being in peak physical condition. “It was definitely a discipline that took me a minute to let go of,” Sue says. “Like, oh, you don’t have to be in elite shape to have value.”
Only now, four years later, does she feel like she’s settled into the ease of a post-career routine, which primarily involves group fitness. The morning of our interview, she did Barry’s; she also does F45, Orangetheory, hot yoga, and pilates at SLT or Inspire Seattle. “Name a class, I will do it,” she says. Her New Year’s resolution was to work out earlier in the day, “but it’s to get it over with; it’s not because I like it,” she says. “Your day is a little different when you do it in the morning.”
Sue never plays basketball anymore, not even recreationally. Her brain hasn’t forgotten what to do, but her body would be too vulnerable to injury. She still has that competitive spirit: “I’ll fuck someone up in HORSE,” she says with a smirk. But as her voice quiets, she admits that talking to me about it all now is actually making her a little sad.
“I’m never going to play a basketball game again. I did it my whole life, for 42 years, and I’m just never going to do it again,” she says. Every so often, the thought randomly hits her with a wave of emotion. Watching the WNBA championship makes her cry. “But that’s the reality. I’m okay with it. Just sad sometimes. I’ll be sad about it forever, and that’s okay.”
The adjustment was both physical and mental. Sue started going to therapy when she announced her retirement, to help her prepare for such a big life change. “The first question was like, ‘Tell me about your parents.’ I don’t think I’ve stopped talking about that in therapy since,” she says, half-joking.
Sue’s parents, Herschel and Nancy, split when she was in high school, and for a long time she believed that the way her childhood shaped her thoughts and actions was set. Therapy taught her new ways to operate. “Sometimes it’s shocking. Sometimes it’s relieving. ‘Oh, I can do it different? Oh, wow, I had no idea,’ ” she says with incredulity. “You can always make different choices, and it’s kind of nice to know that that’s available to you.”
Sue’s big wins are her own, fought for with “incredible depth and resilience and strength and will and character,” says her sister Jen. “To become who she has become, that is not easy to do. She really has drawn from a deep well inside of herself.”
Her best breakthroughs often happen with the assist of a sports analogy. Like if Sue uncovers something new about herself that she struggles to apply in life, her therapist compares it to a muscle: “Imagine you just had surgery, and your quads went away. You’ve got to build the quad up. It’s atrophy.” Just as her muscles have strengthened and weakened and strengthened again over time, so has she.
The day after Sue and I meet will mark one of her biggest life changes thus far. She tells me that she and Megan plan to announce the end of their much-documented, decade-long relationship. It’s not abrupt, and Sue says they are ready.
She describes their decisions of the past few months with a list of buzzwords, by her own admission: “Intentional,” “with love,” “great terms,” “no bad blood.” They’re all true, she insists. “It’s like anything. It’s like, you grow, you change, you start having conversations about that in your relationship, and it just got to a point where we realized it might not be working anymore.”
As fans of A Touch More are well aware, they’ve long been open about their experience in couples therapy. They learned to consistently share an honest “starting point” with each other, knowing the way they felt in the moment could change at any time. “It’s made it a lot more, for me, easier and calmer,” Sue says. “Otherwise, sometimes it can feel like you’re set in stone on something, and that can bring an anxiety, but it hasn’t felt like that.”
Over time, the two women came to an uncoupling, but not one that was planned for; while they never married, they built a life together, sharing homes and businesses and a public persona as the sports world’s “fairy gay godmothers,” as Sue puts it. “We definitely planned on being together forever.” It really hit her when she received a line of questioning from her 13- and 11-year-old nieces, her sister Jen’s daughters, who don’t know life without Megan. (She’s “the best aunt ever,” Jen says. “They could call her up at any hour of the night and she will be there.”)
While close friends and family knew about the breakup, most people in their lives didn’t, including the guests on A Touch More. “When we were doing the podcast the last month, is it a little awkward for the two of us? Yeah,” Sue says. She hopes that fans won’t revisit old episodes and question their relationship. “The chemistry and the interaction between us, that was still very real. It really is rooted in an actual love for each other.”
Long before she and Megan became one of sports’ most visible couples, Sue kept much of her life private in a league and a culture where being fully open didn’t always feel like an option. “I was actively hiding,” she says. “It’s not just that you’re hiding who you’re dating. You end up hiding so much more.” For all the ways she’s evolved on her own—including embracing the freedom that comes with being herself—much of that was shaped in partnership. “There’s no way I am who I am without being with Megan,” she says. “But now that it’s over, I get to take this kind of, like, newish, grown-ish, healed-ish version of myself and be out in the world again. It’s exciting, it’s scary, it’s all of it.”
Sue is not in a rush to uncover what this next chapter might entail. She’s looking forward to staying rooted on the East Coast for the rest of the WNBA season for the NBC job, doing what comes easiest to her: talking hoops. “It is nice to have some structure waiting for me,” she says. “Otherwise it could feel a little too floaty, and I don’t want to feel floaty right now.”
When relaunching the WNBA on NBC and Peacock, the network wanted talent with credibility, knowledge of the game, and trust with the audience, says Betsy Riley, senior vice president and coordinating producer for NBC Sports and Olympics. Sue was at the top of their list; she sealed it over lunch in Rockefeller Plaza. “What really struck me in meeting her was that she is curious, she’s thoughtful, and she really displays humanity in everything she does,” Riley tells me on a video call. Sue is a studio analyst on WNBA Showtime and will occasionally hit the road for feature storytelling. “It’s a really special opportunity for us to build this show from scratch, and we really hope that Sue’s imprint is on it.”
Sue is a planner, a scheduler, a listmaker, and finds contentment in knowing what the next month holds. But she also finds comfort in being on what she calls a “two-and-a-half-year plan,” an opportunity to try a bit of everything and see what naturally speaks to her so she can focus on that moving forward.
Her sister Jen says she’s stepped into her full power since retirement. “Basketball—there’s such a metaphor for life, right?” Jen says. “You take that shot, miss it, you take another shot. You keep going, even when the odds are against you, because you never know when things will turn around. I’ve always looked at her in that way as a player and thought, Okay, I got to take that next shot. I got to do that next thing, take that risk.”
Sue is not trying to rush clarity or force meaning onto something that’s still unfolding. There’s no guarantee of what comes next, and that’s okay. “You can’t avoid adversity. It’s coming, and it’s really on you to work on yourself, prepare yourself, to be ready to handle it,” she says. “As you flex those muscles and build them up, you just innately become more resilient.”
There’s Sue again with the muscles, the training, the basketball of it all. “I know,” she says, unfazed. “It’s all I know.”
Photographed by AB+DM
Executive Visual Director Fabienne Le Roux
Creative Director Jamie Prokell
Styling by Rose Lauture
Hair Merita Ibrahimi
Makeup Alexandria Gilleo
Manicure Nori Using Chanel Le Vernis for See Management
Prop Styling Sarah Cayer
Production Crawford & Co Productions
Executive Producer Dorenna Newton
DP Derrick Saint Pierre
Editor, The Huddle Will Klein
Editor, BTS Kyle Orozovich
Camera Romy Kirchauer
Sound Alberto Leon
Producer Janie Booth
Amanda Lucci is the director of special projects at Women’s Health, where she works on multi-platform brand initiatives and social media strategy. She also leads the sports and athletes vertical, traveling to cover the Paris Olympics, Women’s World Cup, WNBA Finals, and NCAA Final Four for WH. She has nearly 15 years of experience writing, editing, and managing social media for national and international publications and is also a NASM-certified personal trainer. A proud native of Pittsburgh, PA, she is a graduate of Ohio University’s E.W. Scripps School of Journalism. Follow her on Instagram @alucci.










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